


Reversed (Reworked)

by ChaosKirin



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Curses, Freddie is a Siren, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Genderbending, LGBTQ Themes, Magic, Magical school, Mystery, Whodunnit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28995741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaosKirin/pseuds/ChaosKirin
Summary: The Queen boys attend a school for magic, although they all have different focuses--called "Views" within the magical sphere. Despite their differences, they're able to become friends... Which is good, since they'll have a mystery to solve. When a curse goes awry, the result could very well affect the rest of their lives, and some of them are more okay with that than others.
Comments: 23
Kudos: 10





	1. In His Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-work of my previous story (also called Reversed) due to some terrible beliefs and ideologies on the part of JKR. As a result, I've written Hogwarts and the entire IP out of the story entirely, replacing it with a new magic world of my own making. Of course there will be similarities, but I no longer wish to have any of my works associated with that woman. The old story will remain up until this one is finished, at which time, the original reversed will be removed from AO3. Please feel free to save the original if you're so inclined, but I do hope you like this version better.

Between the two of them, Brian and John should have been able to get Roger up the stairs. _Should have_. Except Roger had become dead weight between them, legs dragging, black eyes staring.

"Did you hex his legs, too?" Brian snapped, lip curling at John, who supported Roger's other arm.

Neither Brian--a student in the Kyyra View--nor John--who made his home in Vexxzus--were particularly powerful. Despite Roger falling prey to the same muscle-less predicament, he sure had a healthy weight to him. As John stumbled on an uneven step, he growled, "Use your legs, Taylor!"

"I thought I was supposed to be playing the grievously injured damsel in distress?"

Brian groaned. "How are you still _joking_ about this? You can't see, you idiot!"

"Bet he can walk, though." John elbowed Roger's ribs, and miraculously, the Oerris found his feet.

Vale Rest loomed ahead of them--an enormous, crooked tree growing out of a shallow escarpment. The natural magical force in the area made it an ideal, if not unsightly, place to construct an academy. At least it blended in with the environment, which was more that could be said for other schools. Of course to get to it, one had to climb a million steps.

At least that's what it felt like.

They paused outside the southern tanglewood doors to catch their breath. Despite their altercation, John kept one hand on Roger's arm out of guilt; he couldn't just leave the other student alone on the dark after everything, especially since it wasn't meant to happen.

John only meant to disarm the other boy, but a much nastier curse had bubbled up in his mind instead. The anger, combined with the fresh blood on his hands, led to the recitation of a spell he didn't even know he knew.

Scraping his thumb across his palm, John dislodged the last of the dried beetle haemolymph. Vexxzus spellcasting was disgusting but powerful, and he could still feel the magical aura around him from the insect's death. With that alone, he'd be able to cast for many hours.

As if reading his mind, Brian asked, "Why can't you Vexxzus have a _normal_ focus?" He ran his hand over the branched barrier in front of him until he found the right combination, after which the door swung open. "To cast _immediately,_ too. It's... Well, it's irresponsible is what it is!"

"Aw, c'mon. You know Vexxzus' magic is pretty new," Roger said, glancing up from the floor. An intricate black mask traced the skin in and around his eyes, the pattern almost like lace. It was disturbing but beautiful, shimmering like stars. John couldn't stop looking at it, half with pride and half with horror. A second year student such as himself shouldn't have been able to cast such a curse.

" _Decades old,"_ Brian corrected as he and John guided Roger onto the flagstone interior, then toward yet another set of stairs. "A new study in the course of _history,_ sure, but it's been around--There's still people alive who were kids when it first manifested. It's hardly _new!_ Anyway, why are you defending him?"

"Mmmh," Roger mused, his feet tapping in front of him to find the steps. "It looks like he's sorry."

"Looks like!" Brian exclaimed. "You can't bloody _see!_ "

"But I can feel!" Roger argued. "Look at 'im. He's practically shakin' out of his boots."

John certainly did feel as if he'd be expelled for this, or that his family would disown him. Or kill him. Consequently, he couldn't prevent the occasional shudder from wracking his body.

Brian grunted a halfhearted acknowledgement. Roger patted John's arm and said, "It's okay, John. Trust me."

John curled his lip, sneering. "How, in any way, is this okay?"

"It's not," Brian said. "And once we make sure Roger's okay, I'm telling the Council everything."

"I hope you make sure you tell them that this _idiot_ challenged me to a duel in the first place!" John snarled. "And you were his second, May!"

"'This idiot' is right here," Roger noted.

"Good! Don't challenge me to a duel next time!"

"Roger that!" Roger Roger'd.

Incredulous, Brian let Roger go, and stood with his hands on his hips. "Oh, you'll listen to _him?"_ Brian demanded. "This is a _snake,_ Roger. We step on snakes. I'm your best friend, and I clearly remember telling you that this was a bad idea."

"Well, I mean..." Roger fumbled for words. "There's a big difference between 'this is a bad idea' and 'don't do the thing.' Seems to me like we should keep John around. He has the potential to stop me from doing some _incredibly_ stupid stuff!"

John chuckled before he realized what he was doing.

"It's not funny, you prat," Brian said. "You could have killed him."  
  
Killed?   
  
No.   
  
Could he have? Granted, he'd said the words to the curse that blinded Roger before he really knew what he was saying, as if they had a mind of their own. He'd screamed them, in fact, if he remembered right. At full volume, louder than he'd ever said anything before.

_What if_ his anger had driven him to say something else, though? There were rumors. The barest whispers of the power of Death Magic--the power to take a life for a life. Since the Vexxzus View manifested some seventy-odd years ago, those in the darkest reaches of the world had experimented. And, it had been theorized, the words came from deep within; a language spoken with no context. An ancient tongue...  
  
"No," John said, half to himself and half to Brian. "I couldn't have. I'm twelve." He stopped on the stairs, distracted by the idea.   
  
"You could have. I'm honestly surprised you didn't," Brian said. "Pleasantly, mind, since we're all still very much alive. Thanks for _that._ "

Could he have felt so much hate in that moment that he could have _possibly_ used magic to kill? Was it even possible? If anyone could do it, his View could.

No.

"Let's go, Rog," Brian said, taking Roger's arm again. He gave John another good glare before turning away.

Despite his blindness, Roger still faced backward even as Brian dragged him up the stairs. Eventually, Roger turned away as well, and John thought that would be the end of it. He'd escape to his dormitory and await his punishment while he pondered if he was capable of killing another student in hatred.

Well. _Hatred_ was too strong a word. John didn't particularly _like_ Roger Taylor, but he didn't hate him.

"Hang on, Bri," Roger said. John looked up again, to find the Oerris student feeling his way down the stairs on his own. John automatically reached out to help him. Roger wasn't a bad kid after all... He was just a bit of a jackass. And definitely didn't deserve a life of blindness for a few idiot pranks.   
  
"John, I told you, it'll be okay." He took one of John's hands in both of his, and for a second, John believed him.

"No, he's like all the other Vexxzuses," Brian grumbled. "He'll grow up to be a murderer. Maybe even the first person to murder someone with a single word."

John wrenched his hand away from Roger. He lacked the fortitude to argue, since fear and a painfully insistent shame clouded his thoughts. He actually could have _killed someone!_ And even if Roger was just an stick-waving Oerris like the rest of them, with no sense of artistry to the craft, he was still a kid.

Also, the most confusing person John had ever met, because who in their right mind was actually _nice_ to someone who'd just cast a terrible curse on you?

Roger, apparently. An person with feelings and dreams and goals. What if, instead of staring into Roger's starry eyes, John had to stare at his life-robbed corpse?

He saw it for a moment. A snow-pale classmate, dead and still.   
  
Struck with the gravity of what could have happened, John shuffled backwards. Unfortunately, as he was on a step, his foot landed on thin air, resulting in an immediate tumble. Something cracked as he tried to catch himself, and the resulting pain followed him all the way down. He couldn't remember how high up he was, but by the time he collided with the landing, he felt like he'd rolled down a hundred stairs. Howling in agony, he curled against the banister, clutching at his arm.

"What happened?" Roger asked. "John?"

"Look--I didn't mean it, Deacon," Brian said, footsteps getting closer. "I mean, as far as Vexxzuses go, you're all right, I guess? What'd you go and--Oh, hell, this is broken."

John opened his eyes, tears distorting the blue and silver colors of Brian's Kyyra uniform. "Broken?"  
  
John hadn't ever seen that look on Brian's face before. Gentle, worried, caring. Before, it always looked so angry. "You're _both_ idiots," he said.

"Brian?" Roger whimpered.

Brian bit his lip, brow furrowed. "Okay, Rog... Let me..." He stood, skipping back up the stairs. Taking Roger by the hand, he guided him back down to the landing. "Sit here with Deacon. I'm gonna go get a nurse. Don't move, either of you. I mean it."

After helping Roger sit, Brian ran off, at a much quicker pace, toward the hospital.  
  
All John wanted to do was cry, really, but he found himself distracted when he felt Roger's hand on his hip.  
  
"What are you...?" John started.  
  
But Roger seemed to be concentrating quite intently as he moved his hand, finding John's elbow. A little more, and he was touching John's shoulder. "Ah-ha!" he exclaimed. Reaching all the way around, Roger pulled John up, until he was sitting. Not one to reject any sort of comfort at the moment, John leaned against Roger, relishing the warmth.  
  
"Did you fall down the whole flight?" Roger asked.  
  
"Half, maybe," John said, glancing up and estimating. "Yeah, half. May says my arm is broken." He looked down at it and wished he hadn't; no arm should be able to bend quite that way, and seeing it just made it hurt more.

"Why do you do that?" Roger asked.

"What? Fall? It's a hobby."

"No. You call me and Brian by our last names. I mean, he does it, too, but just 'cuz you do, I think."

John really had no idea. It seemed like the thing to do, he supposed. Take something precious to someone and completely ignore it in favor of something less personal? Seemed stupid, now that he really thought about it.

"Anyway," Roger went on. "This is quite a spell you did. I think you might know more than Brian."   
  
More than a stuck up old Kyyra? Possible. Probable, even. Though Brian didn't seem like the type to study curses in the first place. Academics could name a curse and maybe even go through the incantation for a test, but to actually pull it off? Nah. Most who shared the Kyyra View had the same problem, at least as far as John knew.

He took a moment to feel pride at the compliment, until the implications hit him. Looking into Roger's eyes, he winced. "It's bad, Roger."

"I know."

"Then why are you so calm?"

He smiled serenely. "Well, it's done, isn't it? There's nothing I can do about it right this minute. Besides, I don't think you meant to."

After a moment, John said, "No. I really didn't." There was no sense wasting an opportunity to learn, though. He leaned over to look at the spell's handiwork again. "What's it like? Do you see anything?"

Roger shook his head. "No. N'come to think of it, I'm not totally sure what... what it was like to see." His eyes narrowed, the bright stars shifting around inside. "That's strange. I mean, odd, isn't it? I don't remember what you look like."

John felt sick.

"It'll be okay!" Roger said again. "Brian'll demand the Head Matron. Salwix, or her assistant Cammielle. He gets all panicky and people kinda take him seriously 'cuz he's so brainy. They'll make it better."

John wasn't so sure.

In the idle silence, Roger waved a hand in front of his own face, expression elated, as if this was the most wonderful thing to ever happen to him. "Wow! What's a hand look like? I can feel it, but I don't remember. Neat, huh? You know, my view's colors are purple and gold, but I can't even think of what purple is anymore! This is so weird--"

"Please stop," John said weakly.

"Eh? All right. Just thought you wanted to know, is all." Roger pulled his knees up, wrapping his arms around them.

"Didn't know it did all that," John replied. "Actually I wasn't sure what it'd do. I think I read about it once. My family's got these old books. Sometimes I'd sneak into my mom's study to read them."

"Didja get in trouble?"

John laughed. "Yeah. Sometimes."  
  
Roger laughed, too, then said, "Look at us, havin' a normal conversation for once."

"You're cursed, and I've just broken my arm. This isn't how normal people have a chat."   
  


"Normal as we've ever had. Anyway, you seem nice enough. How'd you end up with the Death View, anyway? I thought only the creepy ones ended up there."

John curled his nose. A lot of people thought the same of Vexxzus, but one couldn't control their magical aptitude any more than they could control the color of the sky. "They shouldn't be called Views," John answered. It was the only thing he could think of to say.

"Yeah, but--"

"It's just a way to do magic, all right? And some people are... better at it than the other views. Some people... It's all they can do."

"Really? It's all you can do?" Roger pressed. "I'm good at Oerris, but I can do Kyyra if I really concentrate. But I don't want to concentrate, so..." He trailed off with a shrug. "You know Brian can do all four? Even Ghittan?"

John didn't know that. His respect for the Kyyra increased a fraction of a millimeter.

After re-situating his arm, which had dulled from a brilliant pain to a mere sharp ache, John said, "yes, it's all I can do."

"Weird," Roger said, though his voice carried a hint of contemplation to it. "We all just thought that--"

"Oh! Heavens, there they are, just like you said!" a voice echoed from the upper landing, cutting Roger off as a heavyset nurse bustled down the steps. Headmatron Salwix, who ran the entire hospital, reached John and Roger and knelt down next to them. Brian followed a few steps behind.

Salwix reached into her pocket, retrieving a pouch, out of which she took a pinch of red clay. Looping the pouch around her thumb, she reached for John's wrist; her touch set it to throbbing again, and he squealed.

She tsk'd. "You're right, May. _Definitely_ broken. Falling down a flight of steps at your age, Deacon? Remind me--"

"A second-year, ma'am," Brian supplied.

"Well, I suppose it happens sometimes," Salwix muttered, gently sprinkling the cold clay down John's forearm. She muttered a healing incantation John hadn't yet learned and added, "this will numb the pain until I can take a closer look. But it's still broken, so don't go doing cartwheels on it."

John's answered with a relieved sign. "Yes, ma'am."

"As for you..." she said, turning to Roger. Reaching for his face, she grabbed his cheeks and turned his head from side to side, squishing his lips into a pucker with her grasp. With her other hand, she traced the lines around his eyes. "Cold, smooth. I know what this is, but I haven't seen it in years, and then, only once in my entire career! What in Merlin's name happened?"

John looked up at Brian. The Kyyra crossed his arms, quickly looking away. _He hadn't told!_

"Whrrbwoosiiyrrs--" Roger tried. Salwix released his face.

After rubbing his jaw, Roger tried again. "One of the sixth-years bet me that I couldn't curse myself," he said, brimming with unearned pride. "Now he owes me n' Brian n' John here a round next time we go to Rec."

John bristled. How _dare_ a stick-waver take credit for John's brilliant spell? Before he could ruin their whole cover, though, he bit his tongue. Roger seemed to be in the process of saving his ass, which meant John was going to have to let that little insult go. At least for now.

Salwix looked up at Brian, who rolled his eyes. "Roger's an idiot, Matron Salwix," he said. "I found him wandering around down the hill. Me n' Deacon were helping him get up to the hospital, but then..."

"I see. Well, Mister Taylor, I'll be informing your View's council that you've been using advanced curses. This won't go unpunished, I'm afraid. This sort of magic is _dangerous._ " She shook her head, clicking her tongue. "At least you didn't curse someone else. Honestly, you children. Up. Both of you. We'll have you seen to."

With Salwix helping Roger to his feet, that left Brian to help John. He did so with surprising care, slowly, so as not to jar the broken arm too badly. It still stung, now that gravity was pulling on it. John held it to his chest, feeling tears sting at his eyes again. "Matron Salwix?" John asked. "Can you fix his eyes? He's going to be okay, right?"

Salwix turned, hesitating. Roger said, "It's okay. You can say."  
  
"There are... some side effects," she said. "Minor, but obvious, I'm afraid. But you'll see again."   
  
Side effects.  
  
As Salwix helped Roger up the stairs, John met Brian's eyes, and they shared a moment of worry.

~*~

"Uuughhhh," Roger groaned. As he became more and more conscious, the headache seemed to get worse. Still, he chanced opening his eyes, grimacing as the light hit them. He threw his arms up in front of his face to block it out.

Well, at least he remembered what _seeing_ was like now. Pain. Agony.

"Roger," someone whispered.

"No, not so loud," he whined. Peering through his fingers, he found John and Brian standing over him. If John would only move a _little_ bit to the right, he'd block out the overhead light...

"We're between classes," Brian said, as quietly as he could manage. Thankfully, Brian's voice was fairly comforting anyway, but it still made Roger's head hurt. "Thought we'd come see if you were awake yet."  
  
Between classes? Roger's duel with John was on Saturday, which meant he must have missed all of Sunday. At least. "So, this is when I ask the cliché, 'how long was I out?' question, I suppose." He squeezed his eyes shut and added, "Shut up, Roger. You're too loud."

" _He's_ Roger, though," John said, worried.   
  
"He knows. He's just being funny," Brian replied. "Or trying. It rarely ever hits the mark."  
  
"Hey, I'm funny." Roger opened one eye again, and gestured to the window. "Think one of you can shut the curtains?"   
  
"They're closed, Rog," Brian said. "Besides, it's cloudy out. You're just very photosensitive right now. It'll pass."   
  
"Oh, yeah, don't take my photo right now, either. I imagine I'm a bit of a mess. Now, c'mon. Tell me. How long was I out?"

Brian and John looked at each other. Roger noticed that John's wrist was neither wrapped, nor did it look like it hurt at all as he cradled a stack of books. "Ah, well," John said. "Salwix put you out for a week. She thought you'd wake up today. I got your homework."

Roger groaned.

"I told you, he doesn't like homework," Brian said. "You should have saved that for when he was up and about."

Roger smiled. "You two friends now?"

"He needed someone to keep him in line. Vexxzuses, you know," Brian said.

John rolled his eyes.

Roger pushed himself up until he was sitting. The headache was easing a bit now, although it still felt like someone had grabbed his brain, shaken it, and put it back sideways. One would think that with all the mages around Vale Rest, they might have found a way to eliminate such inconveniences entirely. Maybe he'd ask Salwix for a headache draught once Brian and John left. "You guys figure out what the side effects are supposed to be?"

They smiled, and John giggled behind his hand. Roger didn't like _that._ It meant they were in on a joke that he _wasn't_ in on, and that was unacceptable. "C'mon, it can't be too serious. What? What is it? Do I have another eye?" He waved his hand in front of his face, but found that he was still seeing in boring, normal three dimensions. No mystical powers of prestidigitation. Alas.   
  
"Is he disappointed that he doesn't have another eye?" John asked.

"No," Roger said. Then, "Yes, maybe."

"It's not that exciting," Brian said. "John, did you bring the mirror?"

"Oh, right. Hang on." He set his books down on the nightstand and slung his bag off his shoulder, digging through it.  
  
"You'll have some dark circles under your eyes," Brian said. "That's thanks to the initial masking spell effect. But it doesn't look that bad, honestly, I think. It's the other thing... Show him. He'll probably love it."   
  
John handed him the mirror. Despite his curiosity, Roger still felt just the slightest amount of trepidation as he looked into it... and found that his eyes were a rather fetching shade of bright lavender. Surprising, to say the least. He wondered if it was a trick of the light, but when he moved the mirror, they stayed purple.

"Salwix says they'll change based on the weather," Brian said. "It's raining now, so... We're guessing purple is rain. We'll have to see what the rest is. I guess that's the true intention of the spell, it's just... imperfect. Also, it's..."

"Not reversible," John said quietly. "I'm really sorry, Roger."

He missed the blue, it was true. Still, John seemed so down, and it could have ended up being a whole lot worse. Color-changing eyes? The girls were going to _love him._ "Are you _kidding?"_ Roger exclaimed. "This is _great._ There's no windows in the dorms. We'll know what to wear without sending someone upstairs in their skivvies."

"Told you," Brian said. He smiled, laying a hand on John's shoulder.  
  
But John didn't look particularly relieved. He had that same sick, pale look that he had on the stairs. Or, the same look Roger imagined he would have, if Roger could have pictured anything at that point in time. In any case, he looked _now_ how he sounded _then_ , and that was kind of sad. "Hey, Bri?" Roger said. "Can I talk to John for a bit?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that's fine. Glad you're up, Roger. I'll have your homework waiting for you when you get out of here." He winked as Roger groaned, before shouldering his bag.

"He _knows_ I hate homework," Roger said, once Brian was gone. "Your wrist looks okay."   
  
"Oh, yeah. They fixed it up here really quick," John said, turning it over a couple times. He sat on the bed, shoulders slumping. "Thanks, by the way... For taking the fall for me. While I was up here, I heard Salwix talking to your Council. I'm sure if they knew I cursed you, I would have been expelled."

"It's not that bad! Is it?" Roger held up the mirror again, poking at the dark smudges under his eyes. Eh, he could make it work. They really brought out the color, honestly, even if that color was purple. "We gotta find out what the other colors are. Think you can make it stop raining?"

"...Yes." John said. "I mean, yes, it's bad. No, I can't make it stop raining. Do you take anything seriously? I cursed you, Roger. Forever. What if it'd been worse?"

Roger lowered the mirror. The poor second-year looked like he was about to cry. "My mum says 'if' is a big word."

"It's two letters."

"Yeah, but you can't dwell on it, you know? If you start thinking of all the 'what ifs,' then you never live _now_. What are you worried about? That you'd be able to do some weird death magic?"

John didn't say anything.

Honestly, Roger always did have a healthy fear of the Vexxzus View. Some, like John, crushed beetles to gain a burst of magic power, but he'd seen others take the lives of mice or birds. _Killing_ was a strange, gruesome, macabre focus, unlike the much more sensible imbuing of magic into a wand or gem--like a sensible human.

Furthermore, the View possessed an air of secrecy and mystery, even among its own members. No one knew how far the magic could go. What it could do. Everyone else in Vale Rest just assumed the Vexxzuses pursued murder as their ultimate goal. Why else would you _choose..._

But John said he hadn't chosen it.

Roger sighed. "Look, I don't know you very well, but everything I need to know about you, I've learned since our duel. S'far as I can tell, you wouldn't be able to do it." When John looked affronted, Roger clarified. "That's a good thing! No one should be able to invent a killing word, and those who'd do it are _bad people._ And... and even if you could... Even if you knew some death spell, you wouldn't have done it anyway. You wanted to teach me a lesson. You didn't want to kill me." Roger paused, then added, "Did you?"

"No! Of course not!" As soon as John said the words, realization dawned, and he relaxed. "No. I never want that. Still. I think what I did to you... It's the worst curse I know of. And I shouldn't have been able to do it. I mean, most adults can't do it. It _is_ still under development, after all. It just doesn't work right... But it's not the words. I've read about it, you see. A little. It must be the pronunciation. It's not at all natural. The words--they say they're ancient..."

"Like... Old god ancient?"

"Maybe," John wondered. "And it'd be easier with a wand, like you have in Oerris. There's a... A motion to it."

"I thought you said you didn't read much about it."

John's academic fixation fizzled, and he slumped. "I pick things up."

Roger muttered to himself, throwing his feet over the side of the bed. Looking through the drawers in his nightstand, he finally found his focus--a rosewood wand, carved in the shape of a panda eating bamboo. He held it out to John, who wrinkled his nose.

"Yes, yes," Roger said. "Stick-wavers and such. I've heard it all. It's a valid implement for magic!"

"Mm-hm," John conceded, taking the wand and holding it between his fingers, as if it were filth. "I told you, I can't. Most people who can do Vexxzus magic can't. Except _Brian,_ I guess."

Undeterred, Roger reached for the nearly spent candle next to him, and puffed out the flame. "Light it. It's the easiest spell we know. You said you pick things up, right? _Maybe a different View?_ One that's not so deathy?"

"I can't--"

"Try!"

" _No!"_

John pressed the wand back into Roger's hand. "No. It's--It's not..."

He pressed his lips together, eyes focused downward at his own hands.

"All right, all right," Roger said, tapping the wand to the candle's wick and setting it alight again. "I just thought--"

John vigorously shook his head. "Sorry."

Interesting.

Roger set the candle back on the nightstand, and leaned back on his pillow. Despite having slept for a week, he still felt incredibly tired. Maybe being cursed sapped all your energy, too. Honestly, the thought that it could have been worse was pretty frightening, and maybe he'd think about how lucky he was later when it all caught up with him. Maybe he'd talk about that with Brian, though, since John seemed awfully traumatized by the whole thing. He certainly didn't seem like the stereotypical mean-spirited, borderline-evil Vexxzus everyone talked about.

"Hey, John? Why'd we start fighting, anyway?"

"You don't remember?"

Roger thought for a moment. He really didn't.

Clearly uncomfortable, John shifted, appearing much smaller. His brows lowered, but he looked hurt more than angry. "You... You charmed all the words in all my books to be the same color as the pages. I'd bought new books before I realized what you did."

"Oh yeah! Yeah, I remember now." He chuckled. "You were so _pissed._ I never heard a first-year say those words before."   
  
John reddened, looking away.  
  
It wasn't just the incident with the books, though, Roger realized, with a rare stab of guilt. Because after that, there was the hair-color-changing incident. And the sweater-unraveling incident. And many other incidents that seemed entirely minor and extremely funny, until Roger added them all up and realized... He'd been harassing the shy kid. The quiet one who just wanted to stay out of the way. Who didn't want to bother anyone.

Because John was a Vexxzus, and so very easy to harass. The whole time, Roger felt like a hero.

It was no wonder John had been so angry by the time they got to dueling. "Oh. Damn. I mean, you have such a bad temper... It was like, ah... throwing water balloons at a bear. Hilarious, 'til it... rips out your spleen or something. Brian did tell me to leave you alone. I guess after all that, I deserved--"

"Don't say you deserved it," John interrupted. "I was scared you'd never see again. I was scared I could have killed you. That's a lot worse."

Roger always prided himself on being the easy-going, laid-back guy who everyone thought was a complete idiot. He liked to make people laugh. And he did! Of course, it meant he was a bully, which wasn't ever what he intended. And he'd driven a nice kid to cast a horrible curse. Of course Roger deserved what he got. "I'm sorry, John. I really am."

"Yeah, well, if we're going to be friends, can you maybe do that a little less often? The bear-harassing, I mean."   
  
Friends?   
  
_Friends?  
  
_ Roger knew his face must be lit up like a Christmas tree. He didn't care, though. "You? And a stick-waving Oerris? This is _so cool."_ He used the springiness of the horrible hospital mattress to propel himself forward, knocking John's bag to the floor, so he could wrap his arms around his new Vexxzus best friend forever. "Ain't no one messin' with me now," he said.

John tried everything to pry him away, finally gave up, and said, "You're going to have to stop hugging me at some point."

"That's a lie," Roger replied.


	2. Sirensong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The quartet isn't complete without Freddie. But he's got a little bit of his own curse that he carries around...

Throwing open the nearest washroom door, Roger parked himself in front of a mirror and grimaced. "Are they going to do this _every night?"_ he hissed, looking back over his shoulder. His eyes--both the white part and the iris--were inky black and eerily deep, filled with stars. Just like they had been the night John first cursed him. He could see, though, which was why the condition had gone unnoticed for days.

John narrowed his eyes, pressing his lips together in what he hoped was a contrite expression. He wasn't particularly _good_ with friend freakouts, mostly because he hadn't had a friend before Roger and Brian came along.

"What! What's that face?!" Roger demanded. "Is that good or bad?"

Brian ducked into the washroom behind the others. "John's face is permanently unimpressed," he replied.

Roger repeated. "Are my _eyes._ Going to do _this._ Every night?!" He gestured at them, as if John hadn't yet noticed. "Because this is _not okay._ It's creepy." He glanced at the mirror again, fake-startled, and added, "See? I'm scaring myself."

John couldn't find any words to express how sorry he was, or how he'd thought Roger was okay with what happened to him, or how he really just wanted to crawl into a hole and hide.

"Rog, it's okay," Brian said. "It's at night. They'll be fine tomorrow."

"This is a lot more noticeable than purple," Roger said.

"It _is_ a curse," Brian replied, glancing at John. "If it wasn't unpleasant, it'd be called a charm. We can get you sunglasses or something, if it bothers you."

"It's bothering me!"

John still couldn't even squeak another "I'm sorry." Maybe he'd reached his quota for the day. Or maybe the way Brian was staring at him, angrily waiting for him to say something, robbed him of his ability to speak. He couldn't be sure.

Thankfully, someone chose just that particular moment to walk into the bathroom, and John didn't have to think of anything to say. In fact, even Roger shut up, turning away from the newcomer, as Brian tried (and failed) to appear casual, leaning against the row of sinks.

It was a Ghittan student, wearing the earthy amalgamation of colors characteristic of the View, albeit with a bright red collar that drew attention to his rather sharp features. He stared at them for a moment, before snorting a quick chuckle. "Well then," he said, stepping up to the sink and turning it on. "This isn't suspicious at all. A Vexxzus and an Oerris hanging out together in the loo?" After splashing his face, he pulled an elegant laced kerchief out of one pocket and dabbed himself dry. Smirking, he allowed rather large, protruding upper teeth to show for a moment. "And a Kyyra referee? Should I go get a professor? Or popcorn?"

"You could just bugger off," Roger said. He was hyperventilating, almost out of breath, and pale. John put a hand on his shoulder.

"He okay?" The Ghittan asked, entire tone shifting. It sounded genuine enough. "You aren't beating the stuffing out of him, are you? I think that's a Vexxzusian thing to do. eh?"

John looked at the floor. He had a thousand witty things he could say, but unfortunately, they wouldn't pop into his head until after the Ghittan left. Such was his own curse.

"He's..." Brian started. Roger nodded just a little, and Brian finished with, "Fine," and an obviously strained smile.

"He's not," the Ghittan said in a sing-song voice. He sauntered around Brian and John. For a second, Brian looked as if he might reach out to stop him, but the Kyyra seemed to be entirely non-confrontational, from what John knew of him so far. And John, of course, was almost useless in the face of someone new. If he had even a small measure of bravery, he could have hauled this newcomer out by the hood of his robe, given him a kick in the rear, and told him to mind his own business.

John did all that in his head. He was a hero there.

Eventually, the boy stood directly in front of Roger.

And he stared, dumbfounded and horrified. "Oh, your _eyes_ darling! They're _hideous!"_

Roger whimpered. It was just the tiniest noise, just the whisper of tears, that caused John to snap. Considering he was already feeling guilty and fairly protective of the boy he cursed, he found it quite easy to locate his backbone.

Reaching into his pocket, he expertly flipped the stopper off one tiny vial and crushed the beetle within it in his hand. Power suffused him, a spell instinctively clawing at his throat to escape.

He smeared the crushed beetle against the Ghittan's jumper. The boy said, "ew."

John smiled. He hadn't meant to smile. It didn't seem like a very smile-worthy moment. Then he said, "I can curse you, too, if you like it so much."

Awkwardly, Brian took John's shoulders and turned him away from the intruder. "Ah--how does one stop a Vexxzus from cursing? He has no gem to take. No wand...? Deacon, no more cursing people. Let's deal with one problem at a time."

Regardless, John struggled free, meeting the Ghittan's eyes. They were wide, his hands raised in shock. Fear. John shook his head, rubbing his temples. "Sorry... S-sorry," he said, tangling his fingers in his hair. "Just--He was making it worse. He was making it worse."

Brian took John's shoulders again. "I know. But we gotta work on that temper. You can't just do stuff like that. Okay?"

John nodded.

"Is this a new thing?" The Ghittan asked. "The hideous eyes, that is? I'm sorry, darling. I didn't mean to rub salt in the wound, as it were." He glared at John, suspiciously, then asked Brian, " _Did_ you want me to get a professor?"

"No!" All three of them shouted at once, leaving the poor boy utterly confused.

"It was really an accident," Roger clarified. "I _did_ challenge John to a duel. That's John, by the way." He nodded at the Vexxzus, who raised a hand to wave while still keeping his eyes down. "And I'm Roger. The tall one with the crazy hair is Brian."

"Crazy hair?" Brian asked.

"Freddie," The Ghittan said.

"Anyway, he didn't mean to. Or, I guess he did at the time," Roger said, scratching his chin. "But he feels bad about it, and it'd be really awesome if you _didn't_ tell anyone he did it? We told the Head Matron that I accidentally cursed myself."

"Even though Roger would _never_ be able to pull off a curse _that advanced,_ " John said. There! He'd told somebody. He felt much better now. "...Sorry, Roger."

"Oh, no, you're right."

"The staff doesn't _know_ that though," Brian said. "And we'd rather nobody be expelled over this. We're dealing with it."

"Well, I know a thing or two about keeping curses secret," Freddie said. "Maybe this'll make you feel better, eh?" He hopped up on the sink, the old plumbing creaking under his weight. "I am one, you see. A curse, I mean, dears. So what you've got? It's nothing. You'll get used to it, I bet, so don't feel so bad."

"It's not nothing," Roger said. "My eyes are black holes. I've been scaring first-years all week, and someone just now told me I should look in a mirror. I mean, they're only like this at night, so I guess... I guess you're right. It's not so bad." He turned to look in the mirror again, turning his face this way and that. "It'll be amazing on Halloween." He looked at Brian, then John. "Why didn't _you_ guys tell me?"

"We, uh. Meant to?" Brian said. "Anyway, didn't you hear him?" He nodded at the Ghittan.

"Freddie," Freddie said again.

"Right, Freddie. You can't _be_ a curse," Brian said. He rolled his eyes back, thinking. Then he muttered, "Unless you're the one--May I?" He reached for Freddie's hair.

Freddie nodded. "I suppose. I was going to tell you anyway. But don't be surprised if I bite."

Brian tucked Freddie's long, black hair back, revealing both the intricate pattern of scales on the sharp jawline, as well as one severely mutilated ear. The edge was covered with green scar tissue. Brian quickly pulled away, and Freddie's hair fell back, covering the scales again.

As Freddie crossed his legs, John noticed he wasn't wearing shoes. A light smattering of scales sparkled on his pale skin.

"Your ears are--" Roger started.

Freddie interrupted. "Yes! Beautiful, aren't they? Oh, I love telling a good story just as much as you like hearing one, I'm sure. Turned out I possessed the wild magic of humans _despite_ my half-siren lineage. So rare. So special." He paused to smile. "And you know what happens when a human displays magical aptitude."

Everyone groaned. Nobody liked school. Then again, learning magic on top of maths and sciences at least provided a respite to an otherwise boring day.

"Yes, exactly," Freddie continued, pulling a sequins-decorated pouch out of one pocket. He twirled it around his fingers. "Of course I fitted into the Ghittan View. But it turned out, I also suffered from the siren's curse, as well. Dear me... My first week here, I accidentally started humming a jaunty little tune, and before I knew it, there were well over a dozen people following me. Silently. Waiting for me to tell them what to do."

John and Brian glanced at each other. John almost mentioned that they didn't need a life's story, when Brian said, "but the ears...?"

"Oh, yes. Quite mundane. My mum cut them off when I enrolled. Don't worry," he hastily added when Brian gasped. "It was a mutual decision. We thought I'd blend in more if I didn't have fish ears."

"Yeah," Roger said. "You're right, that's worse."

"Excellent," Freddie said. "I do like winning."

"Do you know," Brian asked, his tone almost conversational. And yet John felt the looming storm about to crash down as Brian continued. "...if they intend to admit more creatures to Vale Rest?"   
  
John only had time to say, "Oh, Brian, no."

"Creatures," Freddie repeated, his entire demeanor turning icy. It wasn't subtle at all--John definitely recognized the signs of an oncoming anger hurricane, since he was prone to fits himself. Still, he couldn't say anything quickly enough to prevent the inevitable tirade.

Maybe, John wondered, Brian deserved it.

Brian blustered, fumbling for an answer.

"Listen very carefully, darlings," Freddie growled, his brows darkening his eyes.

Then, he began to sing.

It was a beautiful song, in beautiful tenor, with an undertone of something uncomfortable. It was a series of clicks and whistles that Freddie seemed to produce without meaning to, or without realizing it. Almost like whale or dolphin song. And it wasn't long before Roger's and Brian's faces were completely blank, devoid of any expression whatsoever. Freddie hopped off the sink and pointed at all three of them. "Now, you all stay put here until this wears off, then get to your dorms. Got it?"

Roger and Brian nodded obediently, expressions still slack.

"Good," Freddie said. He sighed--sadly, John thought--and headed for the door.

John caught his sleeve, and Freddie whipped around, meeting John's eyes with surprise.

"Are they going to be okay?" John asked.

"Er, yeah. It lasts a few minutes, darling, but they'll be fine. Why aren't you under?"

"Am I supposed to be?"

Freddie looked at the other two. Brian was actually slack-jawed and drooling. "Well, it's not selective. It just affects everyone who hears it. Or, I thought it did. Hm. Lemme try again."

John clapped a hand over Freddie's mouth, and glared. "None of that. You've already got them in a state. You want 'em brain-dead, too?" Still with his hand over Freddie's mouth, he looked past the boy's shoulder and tried, "Brian? Roger?"   
  
No answer. Not even a reaction.

Freddie pushed John's hand away. "But why aren't you...?"

"I don't know," John replied, curling his lip. "Why'd you do that to them, anyway? And you were just going to _leave them like that?_ Everyone thinks Vexxzuses are bad. This is just cruel."

"It wears off after a bit, I told you," Freddie said. "I mean, they'll be a bit fuzzy for a while, so that's why I told them to get to their dorms after. It's just hypnotism, you see. They wouldn't do anything against their own self-preservation, or I don't think they'd have let me into Vale Rest. I'm not a full siren." He turned to Brian, getting right up in his face and adding, "And I'm _not_ a _creature_."

Brian didn't even blink. It was quite disturbing.

"Is that it?" John said. "That's why you--what. Mind-controlled them? With Brian, that's a compliment. I've only known him for a couple weeks, really, and all I know about him is that he _loves animals--"_ John paused and amended as Freddie scowled. "Non-humans, I mean! It's what he's studying here! It's his best subject. He wants to write his thesis on werebats. I think he was kind of happy about maybe getting to know you better."

Freddie blinked, confused. John pushed past him and gave Roger's shoulders a shake. "C'mon, Rog."  
  
"They won't listen to you, dear," Freddie said quietly. "Brian studies non-humans?"

"He does. He knows practically everything about them, too."

"Oh." Freddie muttered. "Well. I'm. I'm a _being_ , first of all. But, I'm sorry."

"Maybe tell him when this wears off," John said.

"Oh, he heard me. It's just that he can't do anything at the moment." Freddie turned to them and added, "Besides, I shouldn't be here when they snap out of it. They're probably terrified. It's the whole reason I do this, you see. No one bothers me twice. Nod if you're terrified."

Roger nodded. Brian didn't.

John laughed. "Tell him to nod if he thinks this is the coolest thing in the world."

"Er, okay. Nod if you think this is cool."

Brian nodded.

"I told you," John said. "Non-humans. Beings. Whatever. If you'd given them a chance..."

Freddie didn't say anything. He stared at Brian for a while, then turned his attention to Roger, putting his hand on Roger's cheek. Roger reached for it, and Freddie said, "Don't be scared. It'll wear off, I promise."

Roger nodded.

Freddie tried to remove his hand, but Roger held on, wrapping both his arms around Freddie's.

"Oh, wonderful," Freddie said.

"He's a hugger," John said. "Does this mean it's wearing off?"

"Yeah, if they're acting on their own. But... They won't be very good conversationalists when they snap out of it. Trust me on that."

John waved a hand in front of Brian's face, though the Kyyra didn't even blink. His eyes might have moved, just a bit, but he was still obediently staying put, waiting for the siren's spell to wear off. "They can hear everything we're saying?" John asked.

"That's the horror of Siren Song," Freddie said. "It's why humans don't like them. You're fully conscious as you're made to do things you don't want to do. If I was a full-blood siren, I could make them do anything. They wouldn't even question it. They wouldn't be able to." He turned to Brian and Roger again, stating for their benefit, "But I'm not. Like I said, this is no more than hypnotism. I couldn't make 'em follow me into the ocean and drown, if that's what you're worried about."

"Sounds to me like _you're_ the one that's worried about that," John said. "I mean, they haven't said a word. And apparently I'm immune, so."

"Yes, strange."

"Anyway, you're gonna have Brian following you around like a puppy now, so good job there," John said. He did feel a little bad, making fun of the Kyyra when he couldn't fight back. Still, it was true. Brian could talk for hours about dragons and hippogriffs. Why not sirens? "And it was Roger's idea to lie about who cursed him, so he's already forgiven you, I'm sure."

Freddie hopped up on the sink again, despite Roger's grip on his arm. He brushed the beetle bits off the front of his uniform. "Maybe this is fate, then, me meeting you three."

"Well, I don't believe in fate," John said. "But if you need friends, then I think you got yourself a few." He attempted to hop up on the sink as Freddie had done, but his arms weren't quite up to the task. Giggling, Freddie grabbed the back of his jumper and hauled him up.

"Ugh, why did you have to be a Vexxzus, though?" Freddie asked.

"Look, you're a Ghittan. I feel the same way about you. I mean who uses _dirt_ to do magic? It's weird. The Headmatron used it to heal a broken arm I had a couple weeks ago and it's... It's just..."

"Dirty?" Freddie drawled, smiling.

John grunted. "Trust me here. These two are all right, and these View rivalries are pointless anyway."

"Says the one who cursed a poor, defenseless Oerris." 

"He had it coming."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Roger nod.

"How much longer, you think?" John asked.

"Any second now, probably." Freddie snapped his fingers next to Brian's face, and he actually blinked this time. "They're moving on their own, which is a good indication. It'll be tomorrow before they're themselves again though, I'm afraid. There's a sort of fuzziness that comes along after you break out of Siren's Song."

"Everything is pink and fluffy," Brian mumbled.

"I think I'm gonna get married," Roger said, dreamily.

"Welp. Here we go," Freddie said. "Let's get these two back to their dorms so they can sleep it off."

~*~

The lowest floor of Vale Rest was called the Recreation Well. Most people just called it Rec, or the Well. Located seven floors underground, Rec was a sprawling complex of fields, an enormous hot spring, a gaming compound for those who were Virtuatekk inclined, and a vaulted cave ceiling which held all manner of glowing spell-lights and naturally glowing mosses. It had its own weather patterns overseen by students; understandably, things sometimes went awry in the Recreation Well, but those events were few and far between.

It also featured a well-developed shopping area, ironically called the Weald. Unfortunately for the students, the Weald remained off limits except with special passes, or on certain days. Located behind a magical barrier, a separate entrance admitted the outside public, who found the little underground town quaint and relaxing.

Most new students found it absolutely astounding that someone could fit what amounted to an entire town under Vale Rest's ground, but once they spent the majority of their free time in the Recreation Well, most came to call it home.

"That's just the thing, darling," Freddie said, reaching across their picnic table to take Brian's book away. He scrunched up his face at the picture. "It's not something I can stop. I know you mean well, but this...?"

"And we're not letting you cut him open," John added. "It's barbaric."

"I wasn't suggesting..." Brian snatched the book back and laid it out on the table. These people had absolutely no imagination whatsoever. Still, he felt bad, after offending Freddie. It wasn't the end of the world, but he hadn't expected the half-siren to be so vocal about his idea. In hind-sight, he should have. "We're mages. If we can find a spell..."

"But I _like_ what I can do," Freddie said, tapping his chest with his fingers. "It's me. I mean, maybe it's a pain sometimes, but it's _fantastic_ defense, isn't it? Against... You know. Vexxzuses."

John elbowed him. "Not against me."

"Which isn't fair," Roger said. With the weather within the Well mirroring the sunny weather outside, his eyes were a bright, golden yellow. Sometimes fluffy clouds would drift across the spell-lights, and his eyes would turn silver. "It's a little frightening. I wish I was inane."

"Immune," Brian said. "You know the right word."

"I do, but it was still funny. Freddie laughed."

"I didn't, dear."

Roger shrugged. "You meant to."

Freddie tapped the picture. It was a mostly humanoid creature, with the tell-tale signs that it was something else entirely. Long, webbed ears, for example, and webbing between each of its fingers and toes. The latter was something Freddie never had to worry about, he'd said. "You know, they probably dissected a siren to get this much detail in the drawing."

Guiltily, Brian pushed the book away. "Well, these illustrations are hundreds of years old. I'm sure it wasn't, er... Related. Look, I'm just trying to help. Sirens are so badly understood..."

The others stared at him. Roger curled his lip a bit and said, "Uh. Freddie is _right here."_

Brian sighed. "I'm not helping. I'm sorry, it's just that--The creatures I study don't... usually... Talk back--I'm going to stop now before I shove my other foot into my mouth, too." Stifling a groan, he put his head down on the table, curly hair splaying out in all directions.

Freddie patted his shoulder. "Oh, come now, Brian. It just frazzles you so, when you think I'm angry."

"You're not?"

"No! Of course not. I'm the center of attention. It's right where I ought to be."

"Prat," Brian said. He reached for the book, but Roger climbed up onto the table, lifting it from his reach.

"So your ears looked like this?" he asked.

"Smaller, but all sorts of colors." Freddie smiled sadly, and sighed. "They'd sparkle in the sun."   
  
"Well, we would have been your friends anyway," Roger said. "Even if you hadn't hacked 'em off."

"I know, that's what makes it so tragic that they're gone." He rested an elbow on the table, and lay his head in his hand. "It would have been too much of a risk, though. I mean, most of the Views get along, but there's always some Kyrra who don't see you as human, then there's the Vexxzuses who're a bit specist. It was better that people got to know me, in all my wonderful glory and humility, before they discovered my deep, dark secret."

John rolled his eyes.  
  
Roger turned another few pages in the book. "Green blood, too?"

Freddie nodded. "Oh, that's the coolest part. Look here." He searched around on the table until he found a splinter, and pried it loose with his fingernails. Holding up a thumb, he gave his skin a light stab.

It wasn't exactly _green._ More like a muddy greenish-brown. Still, very odd, and very cool. "Don't touch, though," Freddie said as he wrapped it in a fresh kerchief. The cloth sizzled. "It'll burn."

"Sirens sound wonderful," John muttered.

"They _are_ ," Freddie said, grabbing the book off Roger's knee. "I'm sure I could make some proper edits here and there. Make this chapter much less sensational. This is all fear-mongering stuff."

"So sirens _don't_ lure people to their deaths?" Roger asked.

Brian couldn't help it. He held his breath, while John stared at Roger with surprise. Both of their expressions must have said what words couldn't--how could Roger possibly say something like that, with Freddie sitting _right there?_ And poor Freddie looked distinctly uncomfortable, glancing away. Realizing he was still holding the book, he tossed it on the table, which echoed thunderously through the Well.  
  
"Freddie," Roger said.

Freddie held out his hand, stood, and retreated toward the stairwell.

Roger started to stand. Brian reached for his wrist, taking it and shaking his head. " _Are_ you actually an idiot?" Brian asked. "Because sometimes I don't think you actually..."

Freddie appeared directly in front of his face, smiling. Brian squeaked, nearly falling backward off the bench, as Freddie laughed. "You know, it's incredibly difficult to walk off in a proper huff if no one follows and fawns over you. Were you three coming, or...?"

Roger arched his eyebrows. "Are _you_ an idiot?" he asked Brian, who was still trying to slow his pulse.   
  
"You did _not_ know he was going to do that!" he called after Roger and John. Standing, he hurried to catch up, too. "You didn't! Dammit, Freddie."

"You should have seen the look on your face," Freddie chuckled.

"I'm laughing," Brian replied, glaring at Roger and John. "They didn't know, either."   
  
"We were all in on it," Roger said. Brian elbowed him a little harder than intended. Roger guffawed through a pained "Ouch!" Which just caused John to start chuckling, too.

"They weren't, it just played out so well," Freddie said. "I do love you guys."

"I am sorry about the whole... luring people to their deaths thing," Roger said. "We were just chatting. I wasn't thinking."

"Oh, I'd be offended if it weren't true," Freddie said, his voice growing theatrically dangerous. "Most sirens don't like humans. The ocean is full of trash. Even my father wasn't fond."

"Is this a love story?" John asked. "If this is a romance, I have somewhere else to be."

"Oh, shut it. My dad's a perfect gentleman. Mum was on holiday. He saw her cleaning the beach. I think he was just curious at first, but then he had himself silenced so he could get to know her." Freddie smiled. "It's hard to stop a siren from singing, you know. He had to learn. But he figured it out eventually. It's sad, though. He has such a beautiful voice... I do wish mum could hear it."

"See? It's a romance," John said.

"Right, that's the point I was trying to make. Thank you, John."

John smirked. "You're welcome."

"What I'm saying is that... Maybe it worked for my dad, being silenced. But I don't want to be. I want to be able to talk to you guys. I haven't had friends in years, and, well, I've got a lot to say."

They passed into the central staircase, which stretched all the way through the two aboveground floors. The steps were carved out of the gnarled tree's roots; each one was alive, and often grew offshoots of new staircases, which very often led to nowhere. Some of the stairways were carpeted with moss. Others, ancient beyond understanding, displayed the deeply grooved surfaces of dozens of generations of students. Some were carved or decorated, while others were left to wither away at the tree's whim.

John and Freddie walked ahead, with Roger just behind them. Brian brought up the rear, his head down, hands in his pockets. How could he have even _thought_ that silencing Freddie would be a good idea? Perhaps it would work for an animal... You could silence one of the louder ones and it would barely care. Somehow, he thought Freddie might even appreciate the notion, but now that he really considered it, Brian knew he wouldn't want to lose his voice, either. He was just trying to help. Good intentions.  
  
Good intentions often led down the worst roads. But he had another idea. A better one. He hoped.

"Oh, what, are you having a sulk now?" Freddie asked. "Come on, Brian, it's fine. You academics just can't help it. I understand. If you don't constantly invent problems to solve, you languish away."

Brian ignored the insult as Roger had a good chuckle at his expense. "No, it was a stupid thing to suggest. But... I think I can make it up to you. I'm doing really well with non-human healing. We just started, of course, but if I study up a bit, I bet I can figure out how to heal your ears."   
  
Unguarded, Freddie brightened. It may have been the first genuine reaction he'd seen from the Ghittan. "You think you could?"

"Yes! I do! I mean, not _now..."_ Freddie's face fell a bit, and Brian hurried to add, "But in a year or two, once I get a good grasp on healing magic. They're some of the hardest spells to master, and regrowing lost ears, with your... physiology. Give me some time. I promise I can do it."

He absolutely could. It was the best consolation he could offer.  
  
Freddie, giddy, wiggled a bit. "Yes. Okay! Apology accepted. Let's go to the library and see if we can find some books for you to read. Might as well get a start!"

Brian blinked. "What, now?"

"We've the time!" Freddie said.

It was a fair point, with classes starting later in the morning. They could pop into the library, and with his record, he could likely check out a book more advanced than he'd normally have access to. Shrugging, he followed, as Freddie hummed a happy little tune.

In fact, Brian was so relieved, he almost felt as if he were floating. His mind emptied of all its worries, and soon he could only focus on--oh.

Oh no.

He couldn't say anything. Couldn't deviate from the path set out before him. Couldn't act against Freddie's wishes. Silently, he willed Freddie to _stop humming!_

They made it up a few more flights before John, quirking a brow, glanced over his shoulder. "You're awfully quiet back there, Rog. Are you sick, or... Ah. Freddie."

Freddie stopped. Brian stopped.

Freddie turned, confused, and realization dawned. He covered his face with his hands, muttering something completely unintelligible. Since his attention was entirely focused on the half-siren, Brian could almost see the conversation playing out in Freddie's mind, even though he said nothing. "This is so frustrating," he finally mumbled. "I didn't mean to do this again, guys."

Brian couldn't do anything. Couldn't say a word of reassurance or even move his eyes. They were locked onto Freddie. Everything the Ghittan did caught Brian's attention. He was stuck.

It was truly amazing how quickly it worked, though. Freddie couldn't have been humming for more than a few seconds before John caught him. But even then, it was too late. Amazing magic, and completely innate, too. No need for a focus.

"There's nothing we can do, either," Freddie went on, pacing back and forth along a step. "I'll--I'll get you guys somewhere safe. Maybe we can talk about that silencing spell after all. Or maybe I'll just command them to stay away? I think I can do that. Yes, it's in their own best interests, so they'd follow the command to the letter, I'm sure. Then again, I'd be down two friends, and I don't want to--"

John shuffled up a couple steps, reached around Freddie's shoulders, and once again covered his mouth.

Freddie swore.

"Freddie, it's hypnotism," John said, removing his hand. "You said it yourself. Right? That's how this works."  
  
"Essentially," Freddie replied. His voice was higher, distraught. "I can't keep doing this to them, though. Harmless or not, it can't be comfortable to--Well, _look at them!"_  
  
Brian did feel himself drooling again. That was embarrassing.

"I've always called this the suggestion phase. Right now, I could literally tell them to behave like chickens for the rest of their lives, and they might do it." Freddie quickly amended, "I wouldn't, guys. Promise."

"You said 'might,'" John observed.

"Right. Because eventually it'd go against their sense of self-preservation and they'd stop. At least, I think so. I'd hope so." He paused, rubbing his chin. "Roger, though..."

"Huh," John said. "Hang on."

Setting his bag on the nearest landing, John sat down, shuffling through his things until he found a notebook. Brian would have loved to spy what he was writing, but his attention remained comfortably on Freddie as he waited for that all-important suggestion. He had no choice. Even so, his consciousness remained intact, if not wholly confused by the whole ordeal.

Worried, Freddie chewed on his fingernails as John scratched away at the paper. Eventually, John stood, holding the notebook out. "Tell me this won't work."

Freddie read it over. "Well, you've certainly accounted for everything. I don't know. I can try."

"Go on, then."   
  
"Should I just read it?"

"Like I wrote it," John said. "I think I've covered all the loopholes."

"Okay." Freddie nodded, holding the paper in front of him. "Brian May and Roger Taylor. Next time I say 'now', if you hear my song, you're to behave entirely normally, how you would if I wasn't singing at all. From this point forward, my song has no effect on you whatsoever, but you're to remember this suggestion." He paused, then added, "Do you understand?"

Brian felt himself nod.

Freddie looked at Roger, who nodded.

Freddie said, "Now."

And the curse fell away. Not slowly, like before, but immediately. Brian barely had time to reach out as the step jumped up to meet him. Grunting, he seated himself and rubbed his eyes, trying to clear away the last of the lingering fog.  
  
"Ooh, that's going to freak me out every time it happens," Roger muttered. "That's bloody scary."  
  
"Hopefully it doesn't have to?" Freddie suggested, crouching in front of them.   
  
"It's genius, if it works," Brian said. "Go on, then. Sing something."   
  
"What? Now? Already? You've just come out of it!" Freddie looked at Roger, who'd grown very still at the suggestion.  
  
"Yes," Roger said. "Do it while I’m expecting it. Better if I know it's comin'."

Freddie gave them one last Look, as if they were both daft, and he sang.

It wasn't like the last times. It wasn't beautiful and otherworldly, nor did it melt over him and wrest control of his mind before he realized what was happening. As Freddie sang, Brian felt a certain fuzzy feeling behind his eyes, but when he looked down and checked if he could still move his fingers, he found he wasn't _stuck_ like before. This time, there was something under the song that Brian hadn't heard previously, which was almost grating. It was high-pitched and whiny, borderline unpleasant.   
  
Freddie trailed off, and Brian shrugged, glancing over at Roger.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Roger said. "That was terrible, though. What'd you do to your voice?"

Freddie actually cried. His eyes were wide--stunned and almost wild--as a giant grin broke out across his face. He paced a step or two, before throwing his arms around John and sobbing into his shoulder.

"Oh, go on," John said, embarrassed. "It was no more complex then figuring out a puzzle."

Freddie backed away, laughing, then turned and threw himself at Brian and Roger, who somehow managed not to fall face-first down the stairs. John knelt next to them, putting his hand on Freddie's shoulder. No one said anything. Nothing needed to be said.


	3. Deacon's Quandary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Although John's made friends with students from other Views, it doesn't look like his Vexxzusian friends are too thrilled. After an explanation of Freddie's Ghittan magic, John stalks away, only to find a problem hidden in the dark reaches of the Vexxzus dormitory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone finds any places where there's very clear HP references (IE I've left the names of the houses in the story) please comment and let me know. There are certain parallels, but things like the house names and unique references should be corrected.

"There's nothing about it not to get," Freddie said, wrapping his hands around the open pouch on the table. Over the past month, the unlikely quartet had sort of staked out their own territory in the Well, always gravitating toward the same spot. They gathered there whenever possible--every day, if they could.

"I agree," Brian said.

Today, Roger had dismissed Ghittan magic. Freddie had things to say about _that,_ and he wasn't about to let Brian pontificate in his stead. "You would," he replied, albeit he _hoped_ with satirical affection.

Brian tried: "It's just that--"

"Tut-tut," Freddie interrupted. "I'm explaining today. You've chosen to wear the colors of Kyyra. That means I'm better than you at _at least_ one thing."

Brian sighed.

Freddie dipped his fingers into the beaded pouch, removing just a pinch of loamy sand collected from the bottom of the hot spring. "The earth has _power,_ " he said. "And if you're very lucky, like me, you can feel its magic coursing through you every time you touch it. That's why so many in our View don't wear shoes, see? Even though the Vale is built right from the earth, it's still _manufactured._ The power is so much less. Unless we're here in the Recreation Well. It's powerful here. Natural."

"But carrying around a _bag,"_ Roger said. "With dirt in it!"

"Several, actually." Smiling, Freddie removed a few more from his pockets, each collected from a different place. "I've quite the collection of pouches, you see. You can never tell what a situation will call for. In any case, within the Vale, I can't do magic without a strong connection to the earth. Think of the pouches as a supplement. Each grain contains the magic of the planet, so I can use it even indoors."

"But the soil expires," Brian said. He couldn't help it, Freddie supposed.

"Yes, yes, I was getting to that. Detached from the planet, the magic eventually fades."

"What a hassle," Roger said. "If I had to buy a new wand every couple days, I just wouldn't do magic."

Freddie laughed. "I don't _buy_ a new pouch! I just dump out what I have so the earth can renew its magic, then I collect from somewhere else."

Roger dismissively waved a hand. "But you have to _walk_ to do that. Right? What if you're sick, or you're just super lazy?"

"Like you?" John wondered.

The insult flew over Roger's head. "Exactly!"

"Well, that's why we each gravitate toward a certain View," Brian said. Taking hold of a fine silver chain, he pulled a severely faceted sapphire from the collar of his jumper. "There's some people who can choose between one or the other, but I think we all sort of have a certain favorite in our hearts. One that's easiest for us to manage."

"A gem's the same as a wand or a staff," Roger argued.

"You know that's not true." Brian reached behind his neck, unclasping the gem so he could set it on the table. "It's similar, but the gem draws from the _self._ My own innate magic. And Roger, your wand draws from the magical implement inside it. Magic-From-Magic."

Each View had its own sort of... mantra. One that governed the entire discipline. Magic-From-Magic. Magic-From-Self. Magic-From-Earth. And, of course, the newest View, Magic-From-Death.

Roger narrowed silver eyes. "I've seen you tire yourself out."

"Of course," Brian said. "It's true. It can be depleted if I do too much. But the advantage is, I will eventually be able to do more with what I have, because the magic is _mine._ I understand it better than any of you will ever be able to understand yours. Anyway, why are we arguing? There's no View that's better than any other. Each has its own advantages and... limitations."

Somehow, their gaze collectively wandered to John. He noticed. And bristled. "What!"

"Having to kill something to do magic is a pretty bad limitation," Roger said.

Uncomfortable, John fidgeted. "It's okay. I breed the beetles in a tank in my dorm." He produced a leather strap from his pocket, which had been rolled into a spiral. At various intervals, a tiny glass vial was attached to the leather; each vial contained a bit of moss and a single shimmering beetle. "My parents told me to always make sure their deaths are quick and painless."

Freddie couldn't help but say, "Their deaths would be entirely preventable if you'd try Ghittan. Here." He handed over one of his many pouches. One that actually complimented the Vexxzusian colors of green and black. "My gift. From me... to you. Aren't you grateful?"

John stared at the pouch as if it contained deadly acid.

"He says he can't do other magic," Roger said. "I tried to get him to try Oerris, but he said he can only do the one."

Brian arched his eyebrows. "Some have a _strong preference,"_ he said. "And some can only do a couple. But the nature of death magic is--"

"Everyone knows if you're a Vexxzus, it's a choice," Freddie finished. "Any Vexxzus has at least one other discipline they can master. It's... Oh, I don't know. The promise of potentially _unlimited power_ that draws people to death magic. It's selfish, is what it is. Er..."

Sometimes, he forgot. Even in the middle of a conversation, it could absolutely slip Freddie's mind that John was a Vexxzus. He attempted to salvage his blunder. "Present company excepted? I mean, that's just what they _say._ Tell him, Brian."

With sarcasm, Brian said, "You want me to talk now?"

"Yes, please."

He sighed. "I don't know a lot about it. I know I can _do_ it if I want to, but I've always found it off-putting. But... Yes. I think it's pretty common knowledge that--uh--what Freddie said."

John stood, seizing the pouch and stuffing it into the pocket with his beetles. "Thanks for the _dirt,"_ he growled, stalking away.

Freddie hoped it was all for show, but John eventually disappeared into the stairwell. Strangely, a couple other Vexxzus deliberately followed him.

"Did you see that?" Freddie asked.

"The tantrum?" Roger replied. "Yeah, I think we all did."

"No, he's being followed," Brian said. "I don't think some of the others in his View are happy with him hanging out with us. The Vexxzuses don't really like the other Views. I guess it makes sense, considering how we feel. I'm not too keen on the Vexxzuses either, except for John."

"Imagine if they knew he was hanging out with a mermaid, too," Roger said.

"Once again," Freddie hissed, "Siren. Not mermaid. Sirens are much prettier."

"You're so ugly, though." Roger practically beamed with glee, barely ducking out of the way as Freddie swiped at him. He'd really walked right into that one. For all Roger acted like an idiot, he was awfully quick with a joke.

"You're still compensating for asking me to marry you. You know? After the _incident?_ That's what you're doing." Freddie knew the comment hit home when Roger blushed. "Oh, don't be embarrassed. You're not the first."

"I almost did," Brian admitted. "Of course, I have half an ounce of sense."

"This is not Pick-on-Roger day," Roger muttered. "I checked my calendar this morning."

"He starts it, then he can't take it," Brian explained. "Anyway, they're going to be posting a list of some of the new books that are coming in at Illiya's--" He went to check his watch, and found it wasn't there.

Roger held it up. "Nabbed it while you had your giant nose stuck in a book."

_"Give me that,_ you little thief." Brian snatched it out of the air, strapping it back around his wrist as he hurried off. "My nose is just fine. And you're terrible."

"Eh, I know." Roger shrugged, stood, and stretched. "I'm going to go have a nap before try-outs."

"Try-outs?" Freddie wondered. "You're going out for Virtuatekk?"

"Wish me luck!" Roger said, turning on his heel.

Which left Freddie alone.

Freddie hated being alone, but more than that, he hated being alone with _guilt._ At least if Roger and Brian had stayed, Freddie would be able to distract himself with conversation. But all he could see was the betrayed look on John's face. The disappointment. The _trauma._

He should probably apologize. "Can't believe I'm doing this," he said, pushing himself to his feet.

The main stairwell from the Well branched into several others, each leading to different parts of the school. Though they could be confusing, and many a student had lost their way within the winding paths, Freddie inherited at least a _bit_ of his father's sense of direction. Though he'd never been to the Vexxzusian dormitory before, he knew the general direction of its location, and soon found his way there.

But then almost thought twice about continuing, because the area was so _completely foul._ Dungeonlike, it was constructed out of low ceilings and stone pillars. It was dark and smelled of rot and death, which made _sense,_ but made for a rather unpleasant aura. Freddie couldn't even feel a _hint_ of the earth's magic through his toes, as if the very earth had forsaken this place.  
  
He'd have to brave the cobwebs and giant spiders--seriously, _why were there giant spiders?--_ if it meant making sure John was okay.

Was it so unkempt because the rest of the Vale avoided this place? Did the cleaning staff even venture here? Stepping over a spilled potion puddling on the uneven floor, Freddie searched for any hint that the area had been dusted in the last twenty years.

Perhaps the interior of the dormitory was more palatable than the reception area. If not, he'd have to have words with John, and perhaps entice him into joining Ghittan. Some students did switch Views, after all, once it became clear that they fit better elsewhere.

As Freddie pondered his pitch, he heard soft sobbing.

Narrowing his eyes, he turned a corner toward it and nearly sauntered right into a trio of Vexxzuses with their backs turned to him. Quickly, silently, he ducked behind a crumbling partition. Hidden by shadow, he could almost sit right out in the open to watch them as they gathered around a fourth student on his hands and knees, shivering on the damp floor.  
  
It was John.

"Aw, he's crying now," one of the voices mocked.

"Good," said another.

"Do it again," the first voice said.

"I already did," John cried. "Please, just--"

"Do it _again!"_

Through the brutish Vexxzuses' arms, Freddie watched John reach into the Ghittani earth pouch and take just a pinch, then mutter some words Freddie couldn't hear. It must have been a spell.

Immediately, John screamed and whimpered, falling over onto his side.

Freddie wanted to run to him, but there was no way he could fight his way through three nearly-graduated Vexxzuses, as oily and wiry as they were.

"You'll thank us later," the first voice said. "You're going to do this again and again until you figure out why we don't hang out with the other Views. We protect our own."

This certainly didn't seem like protection. What were they doing to him?

"We should have another twenty minutes before anyone comes down here," the second voice said. "Go make sure no one's coming. It's gonna get worse."

Freddie ducked back into the shadows as footsteps approached, then passed. Once the Vexxzus was out of sight, Freddie peered around the partition again, only to wish he hadn't. He could see John much more clearly now. Huddled on the floor, the second-year cradled his hand, which had erupted with a hundred boils. Someone had also cursed him with antlers, too, as his hair was stacked and stretched unnaturally into characteristic pronged horns. With John's long hair, he had quite an impressive set. In fact, his head was bent forward, unable to support their weight.

"Careful. Don't go too far," The second voice said. "If he backfires enough..."

"I know. It'd serve him right, hanging out with..." the first voice trailed off, then said, "Don't, by the way. You're lucky this is just a warning--Hey!"

As John tried to crawl away, the first Vexxzus kicked him. Hard.

John yelped, and Freddie had seen enough.

He'd never used his voice as a weapon before. At least, not like he was thinking of using it. Still, he began to sing the words of an old song, hoping immunity to his voice wasn't a common Vexxzusian trait.

_"The breeze in Scotland bends the trees  
_ _The trees refuse to break  
_ _The Wind blows waves onto the shore  
_ _Destruction in its wake  
_ _Soon all is left in ruins  
_ _The trees, the land, and man  
_ _The Siren lives and stands alone  
_ _Their death, his only plan."_

He waited for them to come running, to find him, to beat him like they did to John, but it was silent, except for the whimpering. Freddie looked around the partition again, finding the two older Vexxzus students staring at him blankly. John was staring at the floor, his antlers resting on it. Now and again, he sobbed quietly.

Confident they wouldn't be able to break out of the song's spell, Freddie hurried forward, kneeling next to John. He looked bad, face contorted in pain. "It's okay, I'm here now."

John just whimpered.

"John?" Freddie said.

The boy tried to lift his head, but couldn't. Freddie rifled through his pockets until he found the spring-silt bag. "I'm gonna cut the antlers off. Your hair's going to be shorter for a while, but you'll be able to walk, at least. Okay?"

"Mm-hm," John answered.

Smudging a bit of dirt onto each antler, Freddie intoned " _Ecutis"_ and severed both. They clattered to the floor and John finally looked up, green eyes wide and filled with tears.

"I thought--They--"

"Shh. It's okay. We'll get you to the hospital."

Freddie had to deal with the other Vexxzuses first, though. "I hate your whole bloody View, John. Seriously. You lot." He looked up, addressing the boys. "You ever do this again... You ever bother him again..."

Could he do this? It was stepping over a line... Appealing to their self-preservation while robbing them of a choice. "Don't hurt him ever again. If you do, I'll kill you."

They nodded stupidly.

"And... And you're to forget I was here. You're to forget it was me. Go--Go back to your dorms now. Stay there 'til tomorrow."

Unquestioningly, they did, shuffling off like zombies.

Freddie actually felt sick.

But he could think about that later. "You think you can walk?" he asked. John nodded, pushing himself to his feet with cracked, reddened hands. "Good. Good, we'll get you upstairs."

It was a long way to go with no one seeing them. But he didn't want to leave John down in the cold dungeon while he went to fetch someone. Thankfully, the sight of a Ghittan tugging an injured Vexxzus along by half an antler was just too much of a puzzle for some people to grasp, so they were left alone all the way up to the infirmary.

Once there, Salwix greeted them with, "You? Again?"

Freddie had no idea what that was about. "I found him outside his dorm. He was attacked." He didn't say what he'd done to the students who'd done the attacking, though. It was horrible, robbing someone of their free will. Plus, he was still afraid that someone would find out, even though he'd told the Vexxzuses to forget.

"Attacked?" Salwix said. "Did you see who?"

"No, I don't know the Vexxzuses," Freddie said. "And besides, I only saw their backs." Another lie. "Can you help him?"

"Of course," Matron Salwix said. "Of course. You run along now, though. I'll have to figure out what this is before I can heal it."

Freddie nodded, weakly making his way out of the infirmary and sitting down on the top step just outside.

That's where Roger and Brian found him several hours later.

"He didn't really say anything. That was the scary part," Freddie said, after he'd told the story. "I mean, John always has _something_ to say. But all the way upstairs, he just..."

"Poor kid," Roger said. "It's okay, we'll figure out who it was."

"I might have left that part out," Freddie said, looking at his hands. "I mean, they'll... They'll definitely leave him alone now. We don't have to figure out who it was."

For all he tried to forget it, Freddie could remember each of their staring, blank faces as if he'd known them his whole life.

"Freddie, what'd you do?" Brian asked.

"I told them... If they ever hurt John again, I'd kill them. Then I told them to forget who I was." Freddie wouldn't look up. He couldn't bear it if Roger and Brian were judging him. "And they have no reason to believe I can't kill them, since they don't know what I can do."

"What's wrong with that?" Roger asked. "Sounds pretty smart to me."

"Under the circumstances..." Brian said. "It sounds like you did the right thing."

"Yeah, but taking away their free will..." Freddie started, but Brian held out a hand, cutting him off.

"You took away their ability to hurt someone. Bugger their free will. If they're going to go after John because he's friends with you, I say you did the right thing."

Roger nodded.

Freddie only felt marginally better. It was one thing to agree with what he did. It was another thing entirely to have done it. "If I can do _that_ , what's to stop me from telling someone to jump off the top of the Vale, or I'll kill 'em?"

"There's nothing," Brian said. "But that's not who you are, is it?"

"Of course it's not," Roger said, smiling. His eyes were an iron-colored silver, turning slowly purple as it prepared to rain. "Think about what you did, Fred. How old were they? Sixth? Seventh year? You took out all of 'em by singing. You might have saved John's life."

"I don't think they would have killed him," Freddie said.

"Still," Brian said. "You did good. Nothing about what you did is remotely bad."

"Guys?"

They turned around to find John standing just outside the infirmary door. The antlers were gone now, though his hair was much shorter and puffy, almost cloud-like. There was a nasty bruise under one eye, and his hands were bandaged. "Did you wait here for me?"

"Of course," Freddie said. "And these two found me when I didn't show up in Rec."

John sat down on the step next to Freddie, and leaned on his shoulder. "I'm so tired," he said. Freddie put his arm around him.

John did seem so much younger than the others just then. He was small, even for a second-year, and at the moment, he was even quieter than usual. To think that other people from his house--sixth or seventh years at that, Freddie was sure--could attack him so viciously that he'd stop talking entirely...

"I'm... Allergic to the other Views," John said. "I'm not supposed to tell anyone. The other Vexxzuses think it makes us weak."

"Allergic?" Brian asked. "Like..."

"Yeah. Some Vexxzuses are. If we try to cast magic in other ways, it backfires. It doesn't matter what you cast, either. The effect is random. And the more you try, the worse it gets. I don't know how far they were gonna go, Freddie. If you hadn't found me..." He tapered off, shaking his head.

All Freddie could say was "I'm so sorry."

"That's why some people go to Vexxzus," Brian realized. "They have to. They don't have a choice."

John nodded.

"Well, I'm glad you're still talking to us," Freddie said. "Those brutes made a compelling point. Are you going to--I mean, what if someone else...?"

John smiled. "I'll be ready next time. I'm tougher than I look. Besides, those ones Freddie sang at are the worst, and they won't bother me anymore!" Freddie detected a note of pride in the second-year's voice, and it made all his worries evaporate.

"No, they won't," Freddie replied. "But there's others...?"

"I said I can deal with the others," John said, a hint of his constant low-grade irritation returning. "They won't catch me off guard again, trust me."

"Temper," Roger said.

John reached around Freddie and gave Roger a shove with a heavily-bandaged hand.

"Just be careful," Brian said. "You've got a long ways to go here. Don't get yourself expelled."

"Oh, I'll be careful," John promised, with the ghost of a very reckless smile.

\---

Brian knew something was up when John asked him to create a spellslip.

Spellslips were a creation of Kyyra mages and contained just a tiny, temporary, extremely malleable shred of self-magic written on paper. They had dozens of practical uses, and more talented Kyyra could transfer their magic in amazingly creative ways.

John didn't ask for anything creative, though. He asked for a _microfect--_ which was essentially the essence of one's magic--written on a strange piece of near-translucent paper.

And sure, the other Views could impose their own magic on a spellslip, but the infinitesimal amount of magic Brian transferred made him more curious than wary.

Additionally, John had asked Freddie for a scale, and Roger for a spellvial--essentially the same thing as a spellslip, but in liquid form and far, far more volatile. Spellvials were unique to Oerris, but few ever used them. They tended to explode.

Brian made John promise that he wouldn't make anything explode, but John just laughed and said, "don't worry." It didn't exactly assuage Brian's fears.

It did get him to thinking about the creative ways one could combine various magics into something more powerful. Perhaps Vexxzus wasn't the "future of magic," as some mages in the discipline insisted. Perhaps the true potential of magic lay in its combination.

In any case, Brian mostly forgot about the gifted spellslip until one fateful day in the cafeteria.

Most Views tended to keep to their own tables, although Brian, Freddie, John, and Roger usually sat together anyway. It _was_ a little odd for John to be apart from the other Vexxzuses; over the past few days, he'd gotten some glacial glares from his fellows. Even if other Views sometimes sat with their friends from other dormitories, the Vexxzuses almost _never_ did.

Although John seemed to relish these glares. Odd.

"What're these?" Freddie asked, sitting down at the long table and indicating the cakes placed at even intervals. Most of them were already cut into, with many students already enjoying their portions.

"Don't know," Roger replied, his face covered in frosting. "Something the Vale did, I guess. Don't think it's a holiday. Maybe one of the teachers' birthdays?"

Brian shrugged to indicate his own ignorance. "They're at all the tables," he said.

"Maybe one of the staff is learning to bake," John suggested, with that same reckless smile he wore after his accident.

Before Brian could say anything, though, Roger said, "You know something."

John arched his eyebrows. "Oh, look. Brian's doing something."

"You're deflecting," Brian said. "Clearly. Besides, what I'm doing isn't nearly as interesting. I'm just making a list of books to look for on Weald Day."

"You know you can just send a Mailer Daemon to the Weald and they'll send you back what you need," Roger said. "That's how I got that anger management book for John."

John rolled his eyes. "Yes. It made wonderful kindling."

Brian blinked. "You didn't."

"He did! Thankfully..." Roger trailed off as he reached into his bag, pulling out a book titled _Managing Your Rage_ , which he presented to John. "They were on discount, so I've got thirteen more. If this one falls into the fire somehow, or gets thrown into the spring, or flies off the roof of Vale Rest and into the foggy moors never-to-be-found-again, you just let me know."  
  
"Great," John growled.

"See?" Roger said. "It's already working. He hasn't turned me into a frog yet."  
  
"Yet." John smiled, then reached across the table to turn Brian's watch so he could see it. "You're about to find out what I've been doing," he said, then gave a surreptitious nod toward the gathered Vexxzuses.

Curious, Brian turned to watch. So did the others.  
  
"Any second," John said again. "And... Now."  
  
Not _all_ the Vexxzuses, but a good number of them, jumped from their seats at the same time. Some of them were clutching their backsides or stomachs as they fled amid the confused stares of the other students. Some of them nearly fell over each other as they fought to escape, and most cried out in rather comical desperation.  
  
Laughter and cries of shock came from the hall just outside the cafeteria.

"One spellslip written on cake parchment," John said, "designed to cause a simultaneous magic effect. One spellvial of vanilla extract--sorry, Brian. It's an explosion, but probably not the kind you were expecting. And one of Freddie's scales, finely chopped, spelled with my own magic to carry the memory of sirensong. They won't know I did it, but they'll be wary of me for reasons they don't even understand."

Roger looked at the nearly-finished piece of cake on his plate.

"Oh, don't worry," John shrugged. "It was just for Vexxzus."  
  
Roger non-subtly pulled another couple copies of the anger management book out of his bag, and placed them in front of John.

John just smiled.

Brian couldn't help but be impressed.


End file.
